Clash of the Fandoms
by MunchkinWolf3689
Summary: Note: There are more fandoms in this story. So far there is Harry Potter, Doctor Strange, Sherlock, Markiplier. There weren't enough labels for the amount of fandoms I'm including. Onto the summary! One of Doctor Strange's brightest pupils becomes infatuated with a tablet with unknown abilities. The resulting chaos leads the story through multiple fandoms/dimensions.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! This is the first fic I've written so I hope you all like it. I tried my best to have it make sense with all of the jumbled timelines and such, and stay as true to the characters as possible. As always with fanfics I own nothing but my OC Retha.

"Come on, come on!" Retha muttered in frustration, the dim light of the sanctum deepening the dark smudges under her eyes. She flipped a page roughly and read over the characters again.

"Activate tablet..." She created a series of complicated, kaleidoscope like shapes in the air, their energy crackling and spewing light like sparklers. She then thrust her hand down towards a worn bronze colored slab, the spell shifting as she went. The tablet's surface began to glow with thousands of dots of colors, sparkling like the night sky.

"Ah!" She breathed, casting a glance filled with urgency towards the doorway, "Ok... ok." She continued to read swiftly, muttering under her breath all the while. She cast another short series of spells and the colors began to dance and flash rapidly. Shapes began to dance across the surface, and Retha could tell they meant something, though she couldn't read them herself.

Behind her a loud whooshing crack rang out, shaking the building. The door swung open to reveal Doctor Stephen Strange, a large cut across his cheekbone and the tips of his hair sizzling. He conjured two large disks that appeared to be made of pure, hot energy, and threw them at the wall. They ricocheted and forced Retha to stop her work in order to use her sling ring to send them hurling back at Strange. By then he had vaulted himself towards her, and after nearly missing the disks himself he began to cast another spell. Strange pressed his hands together and pulled them apart again, a rope of bright orange crackling between them. He threw it around Retha's neck and pulled her away from the tablet.

"Retha stop!" He yelled, her breaths gasping under the force of him constricting her throat. She made a fist and swung her arm upwards, her spell slicing through the rope. She kicked Strange backwards before rolling and grasping desperately at the tablet again, attempting to finish her work. Strange pulled in a sharp breath of pain from the kick and pulled himself to his feet.

He conjured footholds that helped him hop through the air as if he was crossing a river, using larger stones as the next step to avoid the water. He grabbed at Retha's robes and fell headfirst over the table which held the tablet, pulling her with him. The two struggled and fought on the ground. Retha let out a guttural scream and sliced his arm with one of her disk shaped spells. He yelped and kicked blindly, making contact with her face.

She threw her hands out and the air before her seemed to shimmer and shift. _The mirror dimension._ Strange glanced at his hand, the space were his sling right once sat now vacant. He couldn't get trapped in the mirror dimension, or she would activate the tablet and... he didn't know what. The wall that marked the boundary between the mirror dimension and this one sped towards him and he only barely managed to cast a spell which flashed a brilliantly bright beam of light towards Retha's face. She howled and the wall shattered just before it reached his boots. A flash of red whisked through the door. The Cloak of Levitation flapped angrily in a sort of battle cry as it hurled itself at her head, proceeding to smash it hard against the floor.

Strange rushed towards the now vibrating tablet and examined it, trying to grasp how deactivate it. The thumping of Retha's head and her cries didn't exactly help his concentration. _Think. Think!_ _Thi-_

An echoing bang. He was sent crashing over the tablet back next to Retha, his head slamming sickeningly against the wall. Retha struggled against The Cloak blindly before using her sling ring to drop a load of shelves from the other room on the hem of The Cloak. It struggled under the weight, its threads stretching precariously in an attempt to contain her.

She ripped it off and scrambled towards the tablet, blinking the stars out of her vision. She flipped another page of the book from the Sorcerer Supreme's private collection. She selected one of the unknown symbols which now flashed on the stone and the room started to glow an icy blue.

The Cloak flapped about next to a dazed Strange. He shook his head and grasped the wall as he tried to stand. The light got brighter and out of sheer desperation The Cloak of Levitation gripped Strange's leg and hurled him at Retha. He knocked into her and they tumbled backwards with a yell. _Thanks, I guess,_ Strange thought through the dizzying pain in his head.

The tablet was now casting watery light along the walls. Retha lunged at it, Strange still clinging to her legs, pulling her down. The Cloak lunged at his leg, managing to reach it but emitting a loud ripping in the process. She clawed, her hand touching the surface.

~o~


	2. Chapter 2

And we are into the Harry Potter universe! (I'm such a nerd). I know the first chapter was a little vague in terms of the _why_ and _how_ of things, but fear not, I plan to tell you soon enough!

With a blinding light and a loud vacuum like noise, the two's surroundings had changed. The sanctum dissipated, and in its place was now a small inn. The smell of herbal tea wafted through the air, mixing with the delicate clink of chimes nearby. Of course they were still too engaged on fighting each other to notice this. They wrestled, Retha still clasping the tablet while Doctor Strange struggled to hold her. His head was still cloudy and pained due to the blow he suffered in the sanctum.

They were interrupted by a loud scream. They looked up in to see the desk attendant staring at them in horror, her eyes wide with surprise. The Cloak of Levitation untangled itself from Strange's leg and gave the attendant a frantic waving motion as if to say, _no no please be quiet!_ Retha was less startled by the sudden change in scenery and used this as an opportunity to bash Strange again in the back of the head with a nearby object. Startled, the Cloak pulled him up, wobbling, and tried to follow her as she rushed out into the street. He opened the door to the inn to time to watch as she then span her hands in a circular motion and was swallowed up by a dimensional portal conjured by her sling ring.

Strange swore loudly. Attracting the attention of some startled bystanders. The Cloak fell limp in an attempt to act natural. She still had the tablet, and Kamatage had suddenly disappeared. None of the other sorcerers knew what had happened, as he had been the only one able to hold his own against her, and therefore was the only one who wasn't dispatched as she fled to seal the room where the tablet sat. And now she had gotten away and he had lost his sling ring in the fight. Now where was she?

 _Now what?_

He glanced around the street. Everything seemed the same. Yet... That building wasn't there before, and the sky dribbled rain that had not been there an hour ago. His hand touched the cut on his face absentmindedly, people were staring. He hastily grabbed the cloak and ducked into a nearby side street, as he walked he transformed his tattered robes into street wear. Were were was Wong? What happened to the rest of the sorcerers. He huffed and waved his hand in a circular motion towards the sky. A blazing ball of sparks shot from his fingertips it like fireworks, rising into the sky and creating a resounding bang. Most people would think this to be a normal firecracker, set off by teenagers bored by their daily toils. Yet his fellow sorcerers would recognize it as a signal. A signal of trouble. A signal to come.

He needed to get the tablet back, yet he hadn't the faintest idea where Retha had gone. There was a spell to solve this, it wasn't hard. It only required some hair, which he most likely had on some part of his clothing seeing as they had spent so much time tussling and trying to knock each other out. The only problem was it required a sling ring. A sudden feeling of isolation came upon him, he gripped the battle worn Cloak of Levitation more tightly.

His musings were interrupted by the appearance of a stranger in the small side street. He was tall, with silver hair that reached down past his shoulders, and a likewise beard that went past his waist easily. Upon seeing Strange alone in the dusty, cramped road, his brilliant blue eyes adopted a look that made Doctor Strange feel as if he was being x-rayed. The stranger was then followed by another man, younger by at least a decade, with graying chocolate colored hair.

Albus Dumbledore cast a knowing glance at his companion and addressed Strange, "You're a wizard I perceive. Albus Dumbledore." He offered his hand, Strange took it.

"Doctor Stephen Strange." He replied, eyeing Dumbledore warily, "and the referred term is Master of the Mystic Arts."

"I've never seen such magic." Dumbledore said conversationally while looking at the sky.

"What magic have you seen?" Strange said with a questioning downward tilt of his head.

"Oh plenty." Dumbledore said happily, "I once saw an earlier performance of the Weird Sisters... Music. Truly magical."

Doctor Strange lost his patience rather quickly. Retha still had the tablet and there wasn't a moment to waste. He still didn't know what it did, and he did not trust it in her hands. "Look, I have some very important business to attend to, so unless you can give me a sling ring, I'm going to have to go." And he began to leave.

Dumbledore's inquisitiveness about this 'Master of the Mystic Arts' who had possibly just cast magic hither to unknown to him led him to continue to disturb this seemingly innocent stranger, "Sling ring? Pardon me but for all I know of the different magic all around the globe I've never heard of such a thing."

So this man wasn't familiar with a device as simple as a sling ring yet he recognized Strange's signal as more than just a mere spark?

"Excuse me but _who are you_?" Strange wheeled around with mild annoyance.

"Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and my companion here is Magizoologist Newt Scamander."

"Hogwarts School of W _itchcraft_ and W _izardry_?" Where these guys part of a cult? Then again, Christine thought he had joined a cult when he first told her were he had been after losing his hands.

"Indeed. It's rather famous, I'm surprised you haven't heard of it. What magical school did you go to?" Dumbledore pried subtly.

"Er, Kamatage." Strange said, thoroughly confused and unsure if this discussion was worth his time. Then again, he had no plan at the moment and no allies; So far no one had come to his call for help. He was on his own.

Newt's raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Here? I didn't know there was a magical university in this part of India."

"It's not exactly a university- look, what is _Hogwarts_?"

Newt gave a little smile.

~o~

The massive walls of Hogwarts sprawled in the delicate dusk light, its windows glittering like stars surrounding a heavenly body. The castle was a great silhouette against the little light fading from behind the rich green mountain ranges surrounding it. The grounds were dew covered and silent. Students weren't due to return for a few weeks, so the castle lay silent except for the preparing teachers, staff, and a handful of student who arrived early for an extra curricular stretch.

One of these rather over eager students included Hermione Grander, who foolishly thought more education would do her good, being a muggle born and all. This couldn't be farther from the truth in reality. Hermione would be moving into her second year, and she had already read up on everything she could and even some spells for third years. Sadly, she couldn't practice any of the spells she had studied due to the International Statute of Secrecy, which permitted her from practicing magic outside of Hogwarts. Naturally she had jumped on the opportunity to arrive a few weeks early just to practice, and naturally her best friends were not their with her. Harry's aunt and uncle had promptly refused to let him accompany her and threatened to not even let him go to Hogwarts at all, and Ron had flat out denied any learning that wasn't yet required. On her own then.

It was a few nights after her arrival that she stared out the window of Gryffindoor tower from her bed, her hair enveloping her like a frizzy bush. She gazed sleepily at a pile of books on her nightstand, debating whether it was worth the effort to reach for one. Perhaps she shouldn't have got so caught up last night reading _Hogwarts: A History_. Her eyelids were increasingly beginning to feel like lead, and her mouth stretched into a wide, catlike yawn.

This feeling was promptly interrupted by a curious circular sparking light emitting from one of Hogwarts' many turrets. A dark mass appeared and leaned over the wall, looking towards the rest of the castle. It then disappeared through a door and out of sight. A nagging feeling tugged at Hermione, she had never seen such magic, and this occurrence she had witnessed was obviously magic. Then again, she was just a second year, and not even that really.

Yet the annoying nagging in her gut insisted stubbornly something was off, and so with a groan she pried herself from her covers and trudged down the stairs to the girls' tower. When she entered the Gryffindoor common room Hermione wasn't surprised to find it rather empty; Most of the few kids who were at Hogwarts this early in the year were down at supper. The nagging increased, and she opted to ask McGonnagal if there were any spells matching what she had seen. At the very least it was new learning. A the worst... the nagging sensation clawed a little more, though what meaning lay behind it she couldn't really fathom.

~o~

After bumbling around their identities some more, Dumbledore finally managed to explain who exactly he was and it became increasingly apparent to Strange that something was very wrong. He had never heard of half the things this man spoke of and vice versa. The two were fascinated by each other, but Strange did not trust Dumbledore and his companion enough to tell them about The Tablet. After it became obvious that no one was coming to his aid, he agreed to spend an evening with them at some 'wizarding' inn nearby.

"Butterbeer for me please." Dumbledore said pleasantly to Newt, who translated to the server, "And you Mr. Strange?" He said, is inquisitive blue eyes blazing.

"Uh, nothing for me, actually." Strange said, "and it's _Doctor_ Strange."

"Ah, yes my apologies." Dumbledore replied, pleasant as always.

Newt finished the order and the server began to take his leave.

"Wait, I'll take a techila." Strange said with a steely look, his mind drifting to the events of the past day.

Newt looked a little puzzled at this request, but translated it nonetheless. The server raised his eyebrows, said a few words in Hindi, one of the languages commonly spoken in this part of India, and left. Somewhere nearby a group of people roared loudly, laughing at something, Strange didn't care enough to wonder what. The noise caused his stomach to clench anxiously.

"He said they don't usually get requests for Muggle drinks, but he'll see if he has any in the back." Newt said, his eyes examining Strange with interest for what felt like the tenth time in the past hour.

Strange considered whether it was worth asking what a Muggle was, but this thought was quickly shoved from his attention by the appearance of two little brown eyes peering over Newts coat collar. The movement drew Newt's gaze, and he smiled encouragingly.

"It's alright Pickett, come on out." Two adorably tiny twig like hands gripped the edge of his coat, revealing a creature that looked like a stick of young green bamboo had decided to grow arms and legs, adorned with long claw like fingers and two floppy leaves protruding from its head.

Strange did his best not to stare in horror at the thing. It wasn't necessarily its appearance that surprised him, as he had seen far stranger things since arriving to Kamatage. It was the fact that he was suddenly being bombarded with so many new things all at once, things that these strangers seemed to take as part of everyday life. He felt like he was being taught again, the Ancient One smiling knowingly down at him, a fan clasped in her hand waving with crisp precision.

 _If I told you everything you don't already know, you would run from here, terrified._

"What is that?" Strange asked, a very subtle edge to his voice. He gripped his techila and tipped a healthy amount down his throat.

Newt gave a rather lopsided grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement, "It's a Bowtruckle. Forest dwelling creatures often found in Western England, Southern Germany, and some Scandinavian forests. They commonly inhabit wand wood quality trees and are very fond of wood lice or fairy eggs. This one," He said, allowing the creature to climb onto his finger so Strange could see it better, "Came into my acquaintance a very long time ago, and has been with me ever since."

He smiled fondly at Pickett, it's eyes stuck to Strange warily, "He doesn't really like meeting new people, I'm still working on it after all these years."

The waiter returned with their drinks, placing each down carefully and not giving Pickett anything more than a sideways glance. He nodded at Dumbledore and Newt alike, and then left, dissipating into the crowd as waiters often do. Strange's eyes darted around the room, noticing two short, wrinkly men with long fingers and beady black eyes. They glared at Strange before returning to their hushed conversation. Goblins, not that he would know that. In an attempt to ignore them he returned his attention to examining the rest of the surrounding crowd. Upon overhearing two women discussing something about a Quidditch match, which had also never heard of, he opted to just converse with the two men in front of him.

"So where are you from _Doctor_ Strange?" Newt said, suppressing a little laugh Strange was pretty sure was caused by his name. He should be used to it by now, honestly.

"I used to be a Neurosurgeon in New York." Strange said vaguely.

"Difficult Muggle business neurosurgery," Dumbledore sipped his butter beer, "Many don't give them enough credit. Although not able to wield a wand, they certainly seem to have a magic of their own."

"Excuse me, but what are _Muggles_?"

"Oh, it's the British term for No-Maj." Newt said with an air that said he obviously thought that explanation was helpful.

"I see." Strange said. He didn't see.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a silvery, luminescent tabby with rectangular markings around the eyes. It's mouth opened and a woman's voice echoed throughout the pub, stifled urgency hung in her words, "Dumbledore, if you could promptly return to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore's brows pressed together every so slightly, yet his face broke into an apologetic smile, "Well it appears I must go. Nice making your acquaintance Doctor Strange. Newt, I hope you find those smuggled eggs you were so keen to track down." He stood and made to leave.

Strange's mind whirred, with no leads and no help a faint feeling of panic arose. There wasn't much to suggest that the woman's unease had anything to do with Retha, but at the very least maybe if he could convince Dumbledore to bring him along he could try and find himself a new sling ring.

"Wait," Strange also stood up, his Cloak absentmindedly clutched in his hand "Is something wrong?" The inn seemed oddly quiet

Dumbledore turned towards Strange, his composer far from slipping, "Nothing to suggest that at all Doctor Strange, these things happen when your headmaster."

"May I come with you nonetheless?" Doctor Strange faltered, he knew how outlandish his request sounded, "I-Its just someone I know has recently dissapeared and I have reason to believe they may go to a place like Hogwarts."

Dumbledore smiled kindly, though his eyes gave Strange that x-ray like look, "Hogwarts has excellent security, no one who shouldn't be there can get in. Unless they are a student?"

"No." Strange said with a sinking feeling.

Dumbledore asked for his friend's name, and Strange told him. After promising to come in contact if he heard anything, Dumbledore bid the two ado and swept out the towards the door with a slight flick of his robes. Strange made an instinctive step towards the door, wishing to follow, when Dumbledore pulled out a thin piece of wood and began to spin. For the second time that day, The Cloak of Levitation unraveled itself of its own accord and proceeded to grip Strange's arm and fling him. He crashed into Dumbledore just as he apparated and they were gone.

Newt gave the scene a wide eyed look and reached towards a case by his feet.

~o~

"We _seriously_ need to have a conversation about this!" Strange growled at his cloak. Him, the Cloak, and Dumbledore were now on the muddy ground outside a large gate adorned with snarling gargoyles. Ahead the large shape that was Hogwarts dominated the skyline.

Dumbledore untangle himself from the heap and stood, his breath slightly faster than usual. His stance was powerful, and he seemed to tower over Strange, yet his wand remained lowered for now. His face was hard and his voice was rather booming for a man who usually assumed such a pleasant air, "May I ask why you have forced your company upon me? And why you seem so keen to enter Hogwarts after I assured you your friend will not be found here?"

Strange gazed up at him, his face partially covered in mud, as he picked himself up of the ground. Again. It seemed to be a reoccurring event today, "She's not my friend, and she's dangerous. I can also assure you I don't think you understand what she is capable of." He said, his face becoming equally hard and determined.

Dumbledore considered him for a moment before simply saying, "Explain what she can do."

Strange's face grew slack as he saw the awesome sight that was Hogwarts, but still he said distantly, "Retha was one of my brightest students, she could even possibly rival me. She-" His attention returned to the conversation, "She became infatuated with this tablet, even _I_ don't know what it truly does, but I knew it was dangerous. She is a passionate student, but disregards all rules and caution in her efforts." Strange sighed, not much different from himself, "She locked herself with the tablet and activated it, I don't know where she's gone, but your walls won't keep her out. I have no reason she might come here except that it appears to be a beacon of magical apprenticeship, and she has a greedy thirst for knowledge."

Dumbledore remained silent for a beat, before opening his mouth to speak. Whatever he had to say, though, was lost as a window exploded outwards in the distance, a bright jet of red shooting off into the sky.

The brilliant blue eyes gave Strange such a witheringly focused gaze, seeing deep into his intentions, deep into his soul, a gaze that made him shiver, before Dumbledore opened the door with a wave of his hand and barked, "Follow me."

~o~

Hermione's whole body jumped at the distant sound of shattering glass in the otherwise silent castle. She broke into a run, slipping her wand out of her robe's pocket. She was- albeit grudgingly- glad that she had ignored McGonagall's direction to head back to Gryffindoor tower. Something just wasn't right.

She wheeled around the corner and immediately had to dive to avoid a disk of energy that then shattered like glass into the wall with a shower of sparks. She whipped her head up, eyes wide like a deer, to see McGonagall dueling fiercely with a young woman with dark hair and brown skin.

Hermione scuttled to her feet, her mind racing through spells like a computer, until she finally whipped her wand in a sharp sweeping motion, sending essentially a magical firecracker down the hall, it exploded with a sound that she hoped would alert half the castle.

McGonagall shot another bolt of cherry red light at Retha, who summoned a wide disk layered with strange symbols and lines. McGonagall's spell bounced off it easily and ricocheted, but it was soon followed by a flurry of angry hornets, who ducked under Retha's shield and began to stab at her viciously. The magic seemed to differ greatly between the two; Retha seemed to be drawing breathtakingly intricate shapes and symbols in the air, while McGonagall shot colored beams, summoned things such as a fiery whip or a wave of hot liquid, and once even turned a nearby statue into a wolf, its fur bristling menacingly.

Retha swatted at the hornets frantically, giving a growling howl of pain. She just managed to sidestep another spell as McGonagall advanced. Retha summoned a gust of wind and spat the swarm back into McGonagall's face. The two reared for another bout of spells when Retha's attention was drawn to the hall behind her. Strange and Dumbledore thundered towards her, both already waving their respective hands or wand to begin a spell.

Upon seeing Strange, Retha immediately flung her arms outward with a blinding light and an earsplitting _crack_ , and booked it out of a window. Dumbledore and McGonagall attempted to block the spell but failed, its wave piercing their magical shields. They fell to their knees, gripping at their ears. The only two who had not been affected were Strange, who had effectively blocked the spell with a geometric shield of his own, and Hermione, who had managed to shave herself from her stunned state in time to dive behind a wall.

Strange flung his upper body over the windowsill, another hot, magical rope sprung from his open hand and wrapped around Retha's feet as she dove towards another dimensional portal summoned by her sling ring. The Cloak of Levitation, which had returned to its usual spot around his shoulders, gripped at the nearest surface that held traction. Hermione rushed to help, and the two successfully managed to begin pulling her back up.

She thrashed as she rose back towards them against her will, farther away from the portal that offered freedom. That was when she summoned the tablet once again. Strange cursed rather loudly, both hands and a weakened Cloak (there was a large tear from one of the earlier fights) occupied on hoisting her up. Watery light danced across his face as Retha got the tablet working again.

"Hey kid!" He looked at Hermione, "Can you-"

The light became blinding and Hogwarts slipped away.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello again everyone! So Sherlock is being introduced in this chapter, yay! Now just to get things out of the way, I am aware Sherlock (from the BBC series) and Dr. Strange are played by the same actor, and for the purpose of the story I am just going to ignore that. I did have a plot line in place to explain it, but I felt the story would be better without it. I felt like it would need to much exposition and such. Hope you enjoy! I tried really hard to keep everyone in character as always, and comments are always appreciated. And as always I own nothing but the story and my OC, Retha. No money is being made and all the rights belong to the creators, not me.

For what felt like the billionth time that day, Strange experienced a flash of blinding light, followed by a loud vacuum like sound he had heard earlier. He still felt the warmth of Hermione's hand, which had been placed on top of his in her attempt to aid him. He also felt the thrashing of Retha on the other end of his magical rope.

The temperature around them dropped due to... Strange's breath caught; they were falling downwards, the green landscape below was steadily becoming sharper. Trees and long wavy grass came into focus, along with the feeling of impending doom. Strange gripped The Cloak of Levitation and Hermione alike, bracing for impact. The Cloak slowed their descent but the landing would still be perilous. Wind rushed in their ears and nearby he heard someone scream, though who he was not sure. The ground loomed closer, and his stomach rolled.

Luckily one of them remembered that they could do magic, "Wingardium leviosa!" Hermione yelled, just barely managing to keep her voice from cracking out of panic.

They landed with a rather anticlimactic, soft _thud_. Retha had crashed shortly before them, using one of Strange's classic magical ropes to latch onto a tree branch. The branch promptly snapped, and she hit the ground with a survivable yet still painful velocity. She groaned heavily but hurried to her feet to the best of her ability. One hand was clutching at her side, and the other had a firm grip on the Tablet, which suddenly had a tiny glowing crack in the center. Strange quickly got his wits about him and followed her. They went crashing through the brush which had surrounded them, both disoriented and panting.

Hermione tried to keep her brain from spinning, the recent shock of teleportation- at least she _thought_ it was teleportation, maybe that was what apparation feels like- still jarred her thoughts. What shook her from her stupor was the muffled sound of the nearby chase getting quieter. She bolted to her feet and went in pursuit.

By the time she caught up her side felt like a niffler was seeking gold in there. Meaning to say it _hurt_. She ran out to were the forest met a large field to find Strange on his knees, panting and also clutching a stitch in his side. His Cloak was hung haphazardly around his shoulders, still powerful and rather magestic despite the large tear near the corner. In front of him was a dirt road which stretched to and around a massive glittering lake in the distance. There was also a wrinkly balding fellow who appeared frightened, looking off into the distance in disappointment.

"Who..." Hermione gasped, "Are... are you?" Her wand clutched tightly in her hand, ready to raise at a moments notice.

"Dr. Strange." He stood, wavering ever so slightly in his fatigued, "She escaped... I need to get a _damn sling ring_." He muttered, more to himself than Hermione. He held a small metallic rectangle with two connected rings sticking out horizontally from it in his palm, much like a ring with two bands, it was evidently snapped in half. He must have managed to break Retha's sling ring before she escaped.

"A what?" Hermione said, her brain overwhelmed by the speedy turn of events in the last hour. She ignored the other stranger, too many questions whizzing through her consciousness to focus on him right now. He gazed into the distance at a plume of dust that was steadily getting smaller as it receded.

"Opens dimensional port-" Strange stopped after seeing the stranger's and Hermione's face, "It allows you to teleport." He finished flatly.

"Who are you?" Hermione repeated, strength present in her voice again, her Hermione-ish bravado and intellect were finally catching up with her.

"I already told you-" He started.

"You told me your name, I'd prefer I knew a little more." Hermione said, her voice remaining steady despite the tremor in her hands.

"Uh, lets see." Strange said distractedly, scratching his head and spinning in a circle, his eyes examining the area, "The girl took a magical tablet that teleported us... somewhere. Then I met your headmaster- I assume you are a Hogwarts student- and then we rushed to stop her and now we are here." He finished before muttering, "Where is here?"

The question got Hermione's gears turning, after a moments observation her jaw dropped. The large glittering lake, the lush billowing mountains enclosing them like a comforting shield, the hill that was usually adorned with a little cabin and a friend of hers, his faithful hound at his feet, "We are at Hogwarts..."

"What?" asked Strange.

"The lake," Hermione said, pointing to the shifting mass in front of them, "and the mountains..." her eyes widened, "We are where Hogwarts is, but it's gone!" She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

Doctor Strange slammed his palm to his forehead, "Damn it, I should have figured it out sooner."

It was Hermione's turn to ask, "What?"

"The tablet; It allows you to travel through dimensions." He remembered the Ancient One's words again, _we harness energy drawn from other dimensions of the multiverse to cast spells, conjure shields and weapons, to make magic._

 _Drawn from other_ dimensions of the multiverse.

" _That's_ why the sanctum dissapeared!' Strange's eyes lit up with the zest brought by sudden understanding, "We have been travelling through different layers of the multiverse!"

"What has e' been smoking? Excuse me young'un but do you know this ere' man?"

Hermione and Strange alike stared at the balding fellow, both had forgotten his presence until now.

"Were does that road lead?" Strange said loudly, the recent epiphany seemed to have spurred him into action. He took a few steps towards the man, who wheeled backwards in fear. Strange waved his arm vaguely at the dirt road they were standing on.

"H-Harroldse-Ville." The man stuttered, running a hand through were his hair would have been if he had any, "That woman took my car!" He said weakly, obviously not sure what to make of the situation.

"Harroldse-Ville... Wait, but that road would lead to- That's where Hogsmead would be in my..." Hermione trailed off, not yet sure enough to use the word 'dimension'. Unsure of what was happening, unsure of who this man even was, she took a deep breath and did what she does best. Her mind searched through all the library books she had read, sifting through heaps of information for anything that could hint that she wasn't going mad. Eventually it settled on an askew book she had remembered scoffing at titled, _Where our Magic Comes From_. It had mentioned a theory that magic could be used to cross dimensions, and that witches and wizards were actually harnessing dimensional energy from their plane of existence. Hermione had thrown it up there with how serious she took Divination, which was not very high in regards.

"How do I know you aren't some Death Eater?" She said seriously, her grip on the wand tightening, her mind drifting back to the events of her first year in Hogwarts, were a follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named became a teacher and coincidentally nearly killed Harry.

"I wouldn't have a way to convince you even if I knew what that was." Strange said, beginning to walk down the road, following the marks left by Retha's stolen car, "But I suggest if you ever want to get back to your home, you stick with me."

He said nothing more, determinedly trudging down the road even though he quite frankly looked exhausted. Hermione furrowed her brows but followed him nonetheless. Strange gave her a quick smile and rubbed his hands over his face, "I suppose I should ask, what's the stick for?"

Hermione sniffed, "It allows you to channel magic."

"Good," Strange said, "because the person we are trying to track down is possibly very dangerous with unknown motives and in possession of a relic of unknown properties. _Which by the way_ ," His voice rose, and Hermione observed he was now yelling to himself rather than her, "is powered by energy harnessed from _infinity stones!"_ His Cloak gave him a little hug, which he shrugged off with a annoyed glance.

"What's an infinity stone?" Hermione said a little hesitantly.

"They are some of the most powerful devices in the universe, I'm pretty sure the tablet is powered by the space and reality stone's combined power. The stones themselves aren't in it, but it is possible that the being who created the tablet used some of their energy to make it function. That would explain how we jumped to different dimensions..." He remained pensively silent for a moment, before looking at Hermione, "You know this area well? Where's the nearest and fastest means of travel?"

Hermione didn't even need to think, "The Hogwarts Express, but I'm not sure it would even still be there."

"Worth a try. I'm certain she will try and head for London. She has a hideout there that she isn't aware I know about. I don't know the exact location but it's the best lead we've got. It will obviously not be there- different dimension and all- but she will return to somewhere familiar if she can."

"What if she just uses the tablet again?" Hermione asked. Strange smiled, pleased that she was catching on quickly.

"The Tablet cracked in our last use, most likely she wont use it again unless she has to or finds a way to repair it."

Hermione nodded absently, her brain going over everything from the last hour. She wondered what happened to Dumbledore and McGonagall when they left. Would they alert her family? Did they even know she was gone?

They reached the nearest town which once had been Hogsmead, but now had a chipped sign reading _Harroldse-Ville._ Hermione gaped at it but said nothing. Her eyes scanned the street, no longer adorned with the wonderful scents of Honeydukes, or the shifty road that led to the Shrieking Shack. In fact, the road was rather well kept with a new wooden fence, and a field of wildflowers seasoned the beautiful sight like a well rounded dish.

The two found the station, which was no longer topped with the bright red steam engine that Hogwarts was known for. It looked shabbier and was currently vacant. The last train had left, most likely carrying Retha with it. Without a word Strange, discomfort and annoyance etched into his face, collapsed into a bench near the tracks and closed his eyes. Hermione followed with an air of being unsure what to do. After a few moments Strange fell asleep, and Hermione noticed a light trickle of blood seep from a wound he had received on his head, becoming clumped in his black hair. He looked awful, and she wondered what he had suffered in the recent past.

~o~

An enraged shout split the calm night at Kamatage as Strange walked its halls. He ran towards the noise, his clothes rippling and shifting till he was wearing his faithful cloak and knee length robes practical for movement. He turned a corner to see the three librarians- the security in the library was increased since the Ancient One passed- fighting with Retha. Her flyaway dark hair in her face and a large gash ripping through her pant leg. She fought with awe striking agility and grace, easily knocking one of the librarians back with a complex spell. He hit his head on a shelf and was promptly unconscious.

Strange noticed Retha had the large bronze tablet slung over her back, the spot where it once sat now unsettlingly vacant. Her intentions were immediately transparent, for she had become infatuated with the tablet and its inner workings for the past months, despite being told time and time again she was not to meddle with it. After being found in its presence observing it for the second time late at night, she was forbid to even go near it. This would not stop her, though Strange hoped the enchantment he placed on it would.

It appeared, though, that her skills in the mystic arts had advanced even more than he had thought. She had broken the enchantment and was now fighting the two remaining librarians with skill possibly equal to Strange. The following fight led them through a wall and tumbling into the spacious entrance room where Strange has first met the Ancient One. Retha sprinted out into a hallway, flashes and screams telling that she had met resistance. Retha dispatched most of the more novice sorcerers with startling ease and collapsed the hallway behind her and Strange, buying her some much needed time to continue her escape.

Lights flared, punches were thrown, sorcerer after sorcerer was rendered incapacitated. Strange and Retha sent volley after volley of spells flying at each other with the fierceness of two lions. Retha baring her teeth in concentration and Strange shouting, attempting to convince her to stop over the noise of the battle. The two entered violent hand to hand combat, each dealing blows to the other with strangled yells. She grabbed Strange's sling ring and tossed it, a move he would later regret not paying more attention to. Retha then kicked off of him, sending him backwards, and did a very impressive back flip into a side room.

Strange had just enough time to see her face as she enchanted and slammed the doors in his face. They were filled with hunger and fatigue, crazed from her sudden obsession of the tablet. Her hair, once beautiful and shiny, was currently sprayed with debris and matted with sweat. Dark circles told the heavy story of sleepless nights and a pale tinge to her skin made her look even more sickly. She looked unstable and unsettled at the moment. As the doors shut to leave him in silence, he chided himself that when he caught her, he would remember that she looked more fearful and panicked than anything, and in her escape she had never fatally wounded anyone.

~o~

In place of the Hogwarts Express was a newer model painted an ugly grey-green with bright letters announcing it was the Harroldse-Ville Express Train. Hermione shook Strange nervously and he awoke with a light groan. Hermione handed him some wet napkins she had found in the station to clean his wounds.

"Try and look presentable." She mumbled, eyeing the surrounding crowd anxiously.

Strange did as he was told, though he was too exhausted to care about how odd his attire looked, and too paranoid. Hermione leaned over, "Please tell me you have Euros?"

Strange flicked his hand outwards and a pile of paper money appeared in his palm, "Of course."

The two boarded the train, ignoring mutters warranted from their ragged and Strange's, well, _strange_ appearance. Hermione was luckily wearing normal clothing and not her black Hogwarts robes when she had... left, and equally trying to ignore the knowledge that neither had any idea what they were doing.

~o~

It was Strange who woke Hermione this time. She bolted upright from the uncomfortable position she had curled up in to try and get an ounce of much needed sleep. Strange looked as if he had barely got any, and was alert and suddenly dressed in normal clothes. He held a cup of coffee in one hand and a bag of cheap train pastries in the other. Hermione thanked him and found she was surprisingly hungry.

The two ate in relative silence before, "So you can call me Dr. Strange, I don't think I ever asked your name?"

"Hermione."

Strange grinned, "Finally, someone with a name easily as confusing as mine." Hermione chuckled, some of the tension between the two strangers dissipating.

They exited the train and headed straight for the heart of London towards Retha's hideout. The two were quickly disappointed, however, when they found a sad little grocery store in its place, and no sign Retha had been there no matter how hard they looked. Strange grabbed a handful of welted cabbages and chucked them at the wall in anger.

An attendant rushed over, only stop in his tracks at the look on Strange's face, "I don't even like it here!" He said, backpedaling slightly, "The people are weird, and the food isn't even worth anything." He darted away without another word. Leaving a wide eyed Hermione and a breathless Strange to be the isles only occupants.

"What now?" Hermione said tentatively.

"Well we have to find Retha-" Strange started.

"Right." Hermione finished, her internal gears beginning to turn, "We know she no longer has a sling ring, so she must have not gone that far, unless she boarded a plane."

"Unlikely, she's deathly afraid of flying. Wouldn't get on one unless she really had to. That still doesn't help us narrow the range were she could be down much. She still has the tablet-" He grumbled before Hermione cut him short again.

"Which is broken, so for now that's not usable." Hermione said. The two went back and forth, finishing each other's ideas like a cohesive team, trying to think of a plan of action. Though the two were both highly intelligent, the options at their disposal were rather limited, and neither wanted to admit they were beginning to feel hopeless-

"I'll take the case." A deep, rich voice said from behind them.

~o~

The two wheeled around, surprised to be interrupted in their mid-grocery-store-isle musings. A man dressed in a long, dark, bell staff coat and a navy blue scarf was evidently the one who spoke. He was pale and had cold, calculating blue-grey eyes under a shock of dark brown curly hair, both of which were accentuated by rather sharp cheekbones.

He stepped forward with a slight arrogant smile, his eyes giving Hermione a look that reminded her of Dumbledore's x-ray like gaze, but it felt more intrusive and piercing than Dumbledore's.

"Sherlock Holmes." He said, his face returning to one of amused yet intense interest, "You need my assistance." He stated rather than asked.

Hermione glanced momentarily at Strange before speaking, "What makes you think that?" Her eyes now scanning the stranger themselves, though most definitely reading less than he had.

"You need to find someone, someone who has stolen a rather important and likely valuable relic. Yet it is more than valuable, it has a function mostly unknown to you, yet it still scares you. Why?" His eyes bored into them, "What's even more curious is that why would a retired American surgeon and a British student who recently had a traumatic year be in a grocery store in London looking for a stolen relic? Especially when there is a rather, _thin_ layer of trust between the two, obviously having just met recently." He took a step forward, "Doesn't matter though. You two are in search of someone in this nebulous city and rather obviously out of your depth. So," He clapped his hands together and smiled slightly, obviously pleased, "I'll take the case."

Doctor Strange and Hermione stared at him incredulously, their heads suddenly hives full of buzzing questions. Sherlock looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he then walked around Strange, his eyes picking him apart some more, "You have been in a fight during the past 24 hours, your fresh wounds and the grime on your neck and upper arm where you missed hastily washing it off shows that, along with the circumstances that have been stated as to why your in London. Yet despite this your hands and wrists are very clean, why? Because you washed them- not just washed them, _cleaned_ them. You took the time to get between the fingers, under the nails and up towards the wrists; Doctor, then. Your professional and intellectual air suggest a field of medicine that requires more skill. You have had 4-" He squinted slightly, Hermione noticed a content mania grasping him as he continued to rattle on faster and faster, "No, 6 high end surgeries performed on your hands. That means you had money, lots of it, yet your clothes are particularly average, possibly even less so, meaning that you no longer have an abundance of wealth. The only reason you would spend your whole fortune on surgeries is if your hands are critical to your career, thus, you're a surgeon. The surgeries didn't fix the problem though, your hands still visibly shake- _retired_ surgeon then."

Sherlock sucked in a breath, having said all that only stopping to take a few rushed puffs of air. Strange stared at him wide eyed, before Sherlock continued to describe Hermione in a similarly detailed fashion. Pointing out the way her whole manner went into a defensive and panicky stance, the way her face turned fearful when she was startled simply by his voice, and how these things somehow correlated to a traumatic past year. He drew attention to the callous on her right middle finger from wielding a writing utensil and telling by the faint scent of ink and old books she comes from a more old fashioned school. Her parents are likely dentists given the faint smudge of high quality toothpaste still present on one of her teeth, and seeing as they are pristine and not in need of special care, those who buy the toothpaste must put dental care in priority. This given with the fact that her clothes are suggestive of an income similar to that provided to the occupation, spell everything out. He rattled off a few more deductions and gave a wide, obviously fake smile.

"Follow me."

With a flick of his trench coat he turned and walked out of the grocery store, relying on the fact that they would most definitely follow him. They hurried along, rather resembling lost puppies, though Strange still held a powerful sense of authority and wisdom wherever he went.

"Why are you helping us?" Hermione burst out as she trotted to keep up with Sherlock.

He gave her a sideways glance, "Flatmate-" He paused for a fraction of a second, his expression barely changing besides the very slight press of his eyebrows, " _Old_ flatmate took my cigarettes."

"What does that have to do with helping two strangers?" Hermione inquired, her student like curiosity clashing with her rightfully intelligent suspicion.

Sherlock gave a little annoyed sigh, "I'm a consulting detective, solving problems people are too oblivious to comprehend is what I do."

Hermione made a sour face, Doctor Strange raised an eyebrow, although in amusement or offense one couldn't tell. Both's eyes studied him, picking apart whether he was trustworthy or not, as he made a sharp left and began to enter a small apartment building. The dark, deep green door was labeled with golden numbers reading _221B_. Under the label was a similarly golden knocker that was crooked to the left.

They followed Sherlock up a flight of stairs and into a spacious yet cluttered flat. Two windows illuminated a sitting room adorned with an ornate fireplace with a large mirror above it. The newcomers absorbed the human skull along with the penknife stabbed into a small pile of papers on the mantle, the yellow spray paint smiley face, that appeared to be peppered with bullet holes, on the wall, and the wide arch which led to a cluttered and kitchen with curious smells and odd scorch marks on the table. Sherlock planted himself in a dark leather armchair placed parallel to the fireplace, his fingers steepled in front of him and a dreamy, far away look on his face.

He motioned for them to sit. Strange made for the old fashioned, cushioned armchair across from Sherlock, but was cut off by a curt, 'Not there.' and redirected to a black couch pressed against the wall opposite the fire, perched under the florescent smiley face.

"Tell it from the beginning." Sherlock said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at them expectantly.

Hermione opened her mouth, not really sure what she was going to say, not really sure how to explain the last 24 hours without sounding like a madman, but her attempt was cut off by Strange launching into a rather detailed twist of the truth about a student, sister of Hermione's, run away from home with valuables.

When he had finished, Sherlock's eyes narrowed even further, a slight smile quirking his lips, "You're lying, Mr. Strange."

Strange swallowed briefly, the only sign of any distress cracking from the composed cross-legged position he held, hands folded neatly in his lap, "You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth."

Sherlock gave a throaty laugh, "You'd be surprised." His face switched from one of amusement to one that was much more serious, "But it is far too tedious to not have all the data when going into a case, so I'm afraid I will not grovel at your feet for the details. Either tell me everything or leave the flat."

Strange remained silent for a good thirty seconds. Hermione could tell he was weighing their options, deciding whether it was worth it to attempt to explain magic and other dimensions to this man. He gave a disheartened sigh and the two locked eyes. They were low on good ideas, seeing how ludicrous their story would sound to anyone who heard it, at the very worst if he didn't believe them they would just leave.

Strange moved his hands, forming a spell as he went. The large geometric shapes illuminated the room, further alighting the mania that had just lit in Sherlock's eyes as his eyes raked the impossible which was forming before him. Strange cast the spell, it positioned itself in the center of the room and rippled into the view of the sanctuary. The tablet sitting in its place and people bustling about.

"This is Kamatage, a sort of 'school' of the mystic arts. Here sorcerers learn how to harness dimensional energy and channel it into 'spells'. It was were I was taught, and like you may be thinking right now, as I considered it, to be a load of BS, but it's not. It is entirely plausible to use this energy once taught how to wield it. This tablet-" He thrust his hand forwards, and the view zoomed in on the bronze slab,"Allows its user to travel _between_ dimensions. Retha, one of my students, stole it and that is how we ended up here. We need to get the tablet back before she manages fix the crack that formed upon last use and leaves this dimension without us. The tablet is too powerful for her, and it's highly dangerous and unstable in the wrong hands." Strange finished, all seriousness, his spell flashed a picture of Retha, who Sherlock studied silently, his face stony, before dissipating.

"I know you'll need more proof, so if you would like us to demonstrate, we can." Strange said, his hands remaining folded on his lap, a business like air about him.

Sherlock remained silent for a few moments before his face twisted into an expression of great amusement, he laughed and said, "I would say you were high, but I know for a fact your not. You are clearly clean, so either you are wasting my time or you are just morons." He stood, crossing to room and opening the door for them to leave, "Though I would like to know how you pulled off the little trick with the..." His brows pressed together slightly," The _visuals_. Not worth my time, although if you have any cigarettes I'll gladly take those."

Strange remained still, a resolved look in his eyes, but before he even started to respond Hermione stood swiftly, crossing the room and looking up into the icy blue eyes of the detective, "You seem to pretty proficient in your occupation, so answer this; can you help us?"

Behind her Strange smirked. Sherlock's face made an expression that was a cross between a smirk and a sneer, "You'll be thin stretched finding anyone who even _nearly_ has the skills I posses."

Hermione whipped out her wand, though she didn't point it at him, "Then you will help us, because we are not lying." Sherlock's eyes narrowed and she snapped, "Tell me something that would be sufficient proof for you, then."

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer just as Strange sprung up from his seat, walked over to him in only a few strides and thrust his thumb to Sherlock's forehead.

~o~

"He'll believe us now"

"What did you do to him?"

"What my teacher did to me."

Hermione looked down at Sherlock, who's legs had failed him and he now sat gasping on the floor with wide, frightened eyes. His long fingers were pressed firmly on either side of his temple, and he looked as if he was struggling a bit not to panic.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "And that is?"

Strange smiled, "Showed him the universe..." Sherlock gave a particularly high pitched sound as he struggled to get oxygen into his lungs, "More or less."

Hermione pursed her lips as Sherlock took a steadying breath and stood up. He looked the two up and down again, his eyes picking them apart again, searching for anything he may have missed. When he found nothing, he regained a shaky composure and, mental gears whirring, said, "What did you give me?"

Strange rolled his eyes, "We really don't have time for this Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, obviously shaken by the whole experience yet trying very hard to not appear so. They couldn't have slipped anything in his food, he hadn't eaten in the past few days, and all of his minimal liquids had been from bottled water that his friend, John Watson, had left the last time he visited Baker Street. It was unlikely they had injected him with anything without him noticing, his senses had been particularly on high alert, studying things even more than usual due to the fact that he had been hopelessly _bored_ , not having a case to occupy his mind. Aerosol disposal then?

"I'll take the case." He smiled flatly, shaking Dr. Strange's hand and pushing them out of his flat.

"This is urgent." Hermione sniffed, "You must start on it now rather than later."

"Oh I am! I'll meet you back here in four hours to discuss the details even further." Their expressions voiced their silent question as to the reason for this lapse, and he replied with a vague, "You might talk." With that he slammed the door in their faces.

~o~

The minute the door shut Sherlock whipped out his phone, he waited for the footsteps to recede and peeked from the window to ensure they truly left. He pressed John's speed dial and shoved the phone between his ear and shoulder, promptly rushing to the kitchen and pulling out a syringe casually from the silverware cabinet.

"John? Baker Street, now." He pressed the needle tip into his arm, removing a bit of blood and sliding into the kitchen table seat, where a scorched but otherwise pristine microscope sat, "I don't care about dinner with the neighbors and neither do you, so stop pretending and get over here. Tell Mary you aren't sure how long you'll be gone."

He ended the call without waiting for a response and immersed himself in studying his blood sample. He didn't move unless to twiddle with the knob of his microscope until, a half hour later, a short, sturdily built man with dirty blonde-brown hair entered the flat.

"What is it." John Watson said, brows raised in inquiry.

Sherlock explained the whole experience, his tone flourishing with exasperation and, as only John would notice, uncertainty. John frowned and examined Sherlock's pupils simultaneous with taking his pulse, "Sherlock..." He began.

"It's not that." Sherlock snapped, "Well, at least it's not that intentionally. I examined my blood for any substances but there's nothing."

"What were _you_ , Sherlock Holmes, doing at a grocery store?" The question bore into Sherlock, "You'd rather starve then pick up a bloody pint of milk for God's sake!"

"The store conjoins with another that sells cigarettes. That's irrelevant." Sherlock waved a hand, "It has to be a drug, it has to!"

John frowned at his answer, but said nothing for a moment until he questioned, his highly trained senses as a doctor examining Sherlock intently.

"They couldn't have been, there's no such thing as _magic._ " He spat the last word distastefully and began to pace back and forth, his hands pressed together as if in prayer under his chin, although John knew this to be the stance he resumed when thinking.

"What else could have caused that other than a hallucinogenic drug that somehow entered your system?" John asked, crossing the kitchen and shuffling through the fridge, "There's barely any food in here. When's the last time you ate?"

Ignoring the last question, Sherlock muttered, "I don't know... I _really_ don't like not knowing."

John sighed, knowing perfectly well Sherlock often forgot to eat for days on end, "We can discuss this more when you've eaten" He said, and Sherlock knew he had no choice but to follow out of the flat, though his mind was still working furiously as he left.

~o~

Sherlock's four hour deadline came with a polite knock at their door. Sherlock said for them to come in idly, scratching away on his violin by the window. The notes were erratic yet organized. Pristine due to the talent of the player, but sharp and strident. Upon their entering he whipped the bow off with one last beautiful claw of a note and whirled around, placing the violin on the table, his eyes giving them that calculating look they so often did.

Strange crossed his arms impatiently, the lack of control on the situation wearing his temper thin. Hermione and him had spent the last four hours attempting other methods to find Retha, magical and non. Except Retha was smart, she had used magic herself to make it nearly impossible to find her against her will, and all attempts to speculate where she was were useless. Strange was adamant she would have gone to London, arguing that she would want to be on familiar turf, since it's where she was raised, yet other than that they barely had any leads.

"Show me the Tablet again." Sherlock said in a business like tone, his arms folded neatly behind his back.

Strange cast the spell, and in mere seconds the shimmering form of the tablet had appeared magically in the center of the flat. Sherlock's eyes imperceptibly glanced up at a form concealed in the shadows in the back of the room, John Watson, who's jaw had dropped slightly.

"So will you help us or not?" Hermione said, highly irritated by the delay of four, pointless hours so this Muggle could wrap his unimaginative brain around the concept of magic. She herself hadn't even known magic existed till her letter to Hogwarts arrived, and although she too had doubts, it hadn't taken her long to put the pieces together. Strange things happening when she got angry or sad; Glass once shattered during a particularly vicious fight with her parents. Things like this had happened all her life, and to be honest with herself she was delighted at the idea that a plethora of knowledge hither to unknown to her was suddenly brushing her fingertips.

Upon hearing the question Sherlock's jaw ground very slightly in frustration. He could not deduce anything that hinted that these people were not who they said they were, and could imagine no way which they could fake something like this so thoroughly.

 _Eliminate all the other factors, and what remains must be the truth,_ A nagging voice said tentatively in the back of his head.

"Hush." Sherlock thought out loud quite accidentally, something he often did when his brain was in overdrive.

"Excuse me?" Hermione drew herself to her full height, her patients wearing glaringly thin, "I'd quit playing games and wasting our time. Quite frankly it was a mistake to even elicit your help, your obviously stubbornly-" She cut herself off, attempting to keep her steaming anger in check.

"Oh he isn't playing games, and he never gets any more polite." John said from behind them, sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, Hermione jumped a bit, Strange barely moved, obviously having sensed his presence, "Sherlock I'd like to just put out there; There is a possibility they are telling the truth." John joined them in the room now that his entrance had been made. At his words Sherlock scoffed quietly, his rigidly scientific mind still blaring away for another explanation for the things he clearly saw before his eyes.

John knew Sherlock. He knew the man behind the cold facade that had been built around him since a was a little boy. He also knew that Sherlock despised it when his senses clashed with reality. It scared him, because no matter what happened, no matter how hard people tried to lie to you, no matter how puzzling the situation, his six senses would always provide him with the information he needed to keep that cold hard wall secure, to solve the crime and make sure he was holding the best cards. Sherlock Holmes detested the feeling of doubt.

"Look," John said, more to Sherlock than anyone else, always the good doctor. The good friend, "I met a man in Afghanistan who predicted his own death down to the day and time. So I'll accept that there may more than what meets the eyes to this world. We'll help you two, but you have to understand that there could be another explanation for the cause of your..." He paused briefly, grasping for a word to describe what was happening, and ultimately failing, "Situation." He finished.

Sherlock locked eyes with John, more inclined to believe the two if he did. Besides, he was rather bored, and if a couple of loons with a strange case appeared then why the bloody hell not alleviate his boredom for the moment. Pushing his much despised confusion away a manic, excited grin crossed his face, pulling a smirk from John.

The game was on.

"Tell me more about Retha."

Strange and Hermione grinned back at him, happy to have a direction to put their efforts into.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello again, no new Fandoms today. I know I haven't been updating regularly like many authors of fics do, but life has been busy and just know I do not plan on giving this story up! So please follow it because you will get your chapters, if sporadically.

The musty smell of soaked walls pressed into Retha's nose with an unpleasant wrinkle. The only light was the two soft beams of moonlight pouring in from the holes in the wall. They illuminated the bare, cast iron bed adorned with a petite and exhausted body. Retha had abandoned her search for her hideout and had broken into this abandoned building. Just to rest her eyes, that's all she needed. Just to rest.

The Tablet lay safely under the bed, the light that had been protruding from the crack had finally gone dark. Retha was too afraid to use it again, for fear of it utterly shattering. The desire to work on it, to fix it, tugged at her body like strings on a limp rag doll.

Just needed rest.

Crescent moons bore into Retha's face, muddling her normally exotic features. Her dark hair was matted and her eyes were bloodshot. No one knew the true extent of her efforts to get her hands on this tablet. The amount of nights spent sleepless, plotting what it would be like to finally get her hands on it, to finally understand its function. The books read and the notes taken, deducing how to activate it. She knew she would only be able to get her hands on it once; Strange was already suspicious.

Retha wasn't quite sure what about the tablet infatuated her so. She wanted to know what it _did,_ couldn't fathom why no one would even consider tinkering with it for a bit. A knot of guilt formed in her stomach as she remembered the look on Strange's face as she pummeled the librarians and fled. She wasn't a villain, no. I pioneer more like. Grasping out for the taboo knowledge that others were too fearful to comprehend. She had done what she had to, no real damage done.

She blinked blearily, the pain in her side from the fall earlier receded slightly, although this fact passed her notice. She closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over her in unforgiving waves.

She just wanted to know what the tablet could do, was that so wrong?

 _But now that she had a better understanding, what could she do with it? Now that she could control it?_

Retha's mind wandered to technology to bridge societies across dimensions, to bridge a gap between the gaping chasm that was the fabric of the universe. Then her train was hit by a sudden, frighteningly strong gust of wind and it tumbled down a cliff, landing in a much _darker_ area.

 _Now that she could control it? How could she tap that and get control for herself?_

Retha shook her head. No, that's not what pioneers did, they discovered things and shared them with the world. They did not hoard their findings for themselves, at least not decent ones.

 _Who was she kidding, she wasn't a pioneer, she was a researcher. She wasn't required to share her findings with anyone, not really._

Retha swatted that thought away again, but it persisted and this time she turned it over in her hands, examining it truly for the first time. She felt the possibility in the idea of keeping the tablet to herself, the control she could gain over her life... Perhaps other people's lives, if they stood in the way...

 _She wasn't feeling quite like herself..._

~o~

Watching Sherlock work was either highly... _awe inspiring_ , or outright boring. John knew this for a fact, watching him wiz around a crime scene like a giddy child, deducing mountains of information from the vaguest details, or barely moving for days on end as he delved deeply into that great mind of his, thinking. After he had gathered as much information as possible, he grabbed his coat and rushed out the door, slipping a pair of black leather gloves over his pale, graceful hands. John followed without a word, as if such an abrupt exit was a normal occurrence. Strange and Hermione followed suit.

"Dr. Strange, if you would follow me to the train station. John, you two gather evidence at the supermarket that she theoretically visited." He motioned at Hermione, not caring to remember her name even if she had given it.

Strange felt a tad uneasy splitting up with Hermione, feeling as since he had haphazardly dragged her into this, she was his responsibility now. Yet before he could argue Sherlock had hailed a cab and pulled himself in, calling for him to hurry. Hermione gave Strange a reassuring nod, her hand resting next to the pocket which her wand was concealed in, its tip hiding under the bottom of her shirt. The two groups split off, both heading separate directions as the London skyline began to release a long held in drizzle.

~o~

"Why are we here?" Strange questioned, his feet slapping against the moisture filled cobbles outside the station. Although he was not usually one to dawdle when he was working, he was having trouble keeping up with Sherlock, who seemed to have been struck with a large dose of adrenaline at the prospect of a new case.

"It's the last place she likely would have been. Other than the supermarket which you are so determined she would have visited." Sherlock replied, throwing the ornate gold doors to the station open and practically hurling himself in. Strange entered as well, trailing behind only slightly.

Sherlock paused in the center of the station, his silvery eyes darting around at an incomprehensible speed. Strange just barely opened his mouth to say something when he sped towards the area where security sat behind closed doors reviewing feeds. To Strange's bemusement, he began to pound on the heavy metal doors impatiently. A dark skinned man with a frock of slick backed hair peeked through a slit that had appeared as he cracked the door.

"Do you need something sir?" He asked, eyeing up the two men.

Sherlock slipped a New Scotland Yard badge out of his pocket, his hand conveniently gripping over the photo of the badge owner, and flashed it quickly before roughly shoving it away again. Strange glanced down as it dissapeared in his pocket, only to notice that the badge was labeled _Detective Inspector Lestrade,_ with a picture of someone who was clearly _not_ Sherlock Holmes.

Yet the badges presence had the desired effect; The man's eyes widened a tiny fraction, "What's this about?"

"Someone highly suspicious has passed through your facility, not that you would notice." Sherlock said blandly with a wide, fake grin as he tilted his head expectantly for the man to open the door, which he did.

The two scoured the security footage of the past 48 or so hours. After a bit of searching Strange recognized Retha's strong yet not confrontational stance and dark hair.

"There." Strange pointed at the grainy footage.

Sherlock's attention focused in as he studied every piece of footage, a few seconds later the right side of his mouth curved downwards, his brows coming together as he continued to peer more intently, "What the..."

Strange was watching as well, though he was much less confused by what he saw. Retha dissapeared into the ladies room, only to leave a minute or so later and exit the building. The impossible came next, where the feed showed her leaving the exact same bathroom and slipping onto another train. Then again, minutes later the same thing happened, only this time she walked away from the bathroom, past an exit to a back, dumpster filled alley, and into the entrance to the conjoining subway station.

"The footage has been tampered with." Sherlock growled and gave the screen an frustrated shove.

Strange gave him a sideways glance. Magic. She had sent duplicate projections of herself, knowing Strange may have checked the cameras. Once she had exited the building, she could have gone anywhere.

"It's not the footage." Strange said, expecting the reaction he got, which was a scoff and an accompanying eye roll.

"Oh let me guess, more magic?" Sherlock mocked.

Strange decided against playing the delusional and opted for reason, "You see anything that suggests which attempt intended to be the fina-" He stopped, the a sudden realization catching the words in his throat.

Sherlock, also being a highly intelligent individual, probably more so than Strange, noticed the cause of the epiphany only a fraction later and the two both cracked smiles. Though Sherlock's was of a man in anticipation of more excitement to fill his craving, whereas Strange's was filled with the first beam of happiness and relief in a good while. They took off out of the office and bee-lined towards the back of the station. Leaving the grainy overhead view of the station buzzing away on the screen.

They exited out of a back door to see a large array of broken glass glittering on the asphalt like shattered snow. The two men's attention was then drawn to a subsequently smashed broken window jutting from what appeared to be the stations' ladies room.

"She left through here. You can see this alley from the camera; This glass wasn't in any of the clips, therefore it was made after all of them."

The two then proceeded to spend the rest of the day continually tracking Retha's movements through the vast web of London. Whether it was some obscure detail that only Sherlock Holmes would notice, or the brief image of her passing through a crowded street in various cameras around the city.

"Aha!" Sherlock cried, voice buzzing with energy, the light of his mobile illuminating his pale complexion and making him look ghostly in the dim light of the security office.

"What?" Strange said, his eyes leaving the street of the fourth set of cameras they had visited.

"Homeless network." He said, as if that would explain anything. After a moment of inquiring stares and a cleared throat Sherlock finally realized that his answer was insufficient, "Much faster than the police when looking for someone and fortunately fuzzier on accepting bribes. She's been spotted at an abandoned apartment build a few blocks away from your 'shining star' grocery store." Sherlock mocked before he sent a quick text to John before he deposited his phone into his bell staff and ran out of the building, Strange at his heels.

~o~


	5. Chapter 5

If you are still reading this far; Thank you thank you thank you! I can't even describe how happy it makes me that people like the story enough to read this far. Either that or you are just throwing me a bone and finishing because you've got nothing better to do. As always reviews/comments/etc. are appreciated and let me know if anyone is out of character at all. The fandom I shall be introducing in this chapter... well I don't want to spoil it (yes I'm leaving you in suspense muahhahahhaha) but I hope you guys enjoy! ;)

The four had gathered a block away from the apartment building that Retha was confirmed to currently be mouse-holing in. John, Hermione and Strange munched on street sold burritos, John having insisted to pay for Hermione's lunch and her coincidentally sharing with Strange. Sherlock stood beside them, glancing at the time on his phone impatiently while they ate and discussed the plan of action.

"Now normally I wouldn't try to even discuss this with you, but it's vital to your safety so I shall risk being called a dumb ass yet again." He glanced very briefly at Sherlock, his eyebrow raising, "Retha possesses abilities you will not be able to combat, and so I suggest you let me take front and center and keep your distance. Hermione, be aware that since you two draw power differently your actions may prove ineffective against hers." He carefully avoided the word 'spells', trusting Hermione's intelligence to understand what he meant without losing the little amount of trust he had between Sherlock and John by sounding like he was describing a fairy tale, "If the air before you starts to shift and fragment, as if it's reflecting things similar to a mirror, _run_. Keep her from using the tablet." He said finally before throwing the remains of his burrito in the trash and striding off in the direction of the apartment building.

As discussed Strange entered the building first, alone. Hermione trailed silently behind, ready to come to his aid if his pleas for a peaceful resolution failed. Strange was fairly certain Retha would not do more than injure any bystanders, but he was going to avoid taking that risk at all costs. Sherlock and John were also right behind, only agreeing to stay outside when Strange brought up the point she could try to escape out the windows.

Strange walked quietly up the stairs towards the top floor, where Retha had been spotted through the window pacing the length of the crumbling flat she was currently holing in. When he reached the top of the staircase he paused on the landing, listening intently through the doorway. The uncomfortable creak of old and unstable floorboards reached his ears, only slightly muffled by the door. Retha was still pacing then. With a deep, fortifying breath Strange pushed the door open, careful to keep his stance nonthreatening while still being ready for an assault.

The sight that met him was forlorn and depressed; The wallpaper was peeling and worn, there was a massive hole in the wall in which the slight drizzle from outside was now splattering through, evidently no lights worked in the room, and the only furniture was a bare iron bed frame, a drooping dresser and a threadbare armchair with a gaping hole in the side, the out torn puffy insides suggesting the presence of mice. Yet this was not what drew Strange's eyes wide with confused surprised. Retha whipped around from where she had been pacing to face him. Her complexion in the past few days had gone from sickly to an even more startling pale and discolored, and her dark circles had never been more prominent. Her hair was flyaway and her clothes musty. Yet it was her manner rather than her physique which had changed the most. It was anxious and... frightened? She had a haunted look in her eyes, which were unfocused and paranoid. Her shoulders slumped, and her hands rung together.

"Retha-" Strange started, holding up a placating hand. He stood his ground, dearly hoping for the confrontation to end peacefully. Retha was obviously unbalanced at the moment, a fact he hoped he could use to reach out to her, and therefore end further conflict.

This sentiment was swiftly terminated, "Oh save it." Retha snapped viciously, her whole demeanor changing rapidly, surprising and confusing Strange further, "Your just here to get your paperweight back."

Strange breathed a laugh despite himself, "It's far from a paperweight."

~o~

"Where are you going?"

Sherlock turned, from pulling the fire escape ladder down, indignantly, "Where I can actually be _useful_." He said, slightly spitting out the words.

Hermione took care to keep her voice low, despite her aggravation, "We are supposed to be covering the exits!" John was on the other side of the building, and somehow- to Sherlock's annoyance- he had been stuck with the girl.

Sherlock gave a dry, emotionless grin, "And I will; From the favorable position of the fire escape."

And before she could even open her mouth to oppose this rather reckless idea, seeing as they could hear muffled voices from the normally quiet building and Sherlock being caught could trigger a fight within seconds, he hauled himself up the ladder and managed to somehow tiptoe up the fire escape both gracefully and silently. It was rather amazing that a man could tiptoe and still uphold a businesslike, uncaring, dignified air, but Sherlock Holmes managed this feat easily.

Thinking that two people abandoning their guard would be even more disastrous than one, Hermione stayed put, gripping the smooth vine wood of her wand, clawing for a scrap of comfort.

~o~

"It's far from a paperweight."

"Right you are." She said haughtily, "It's a device capable of improving reality utterly and drastically as we know it."

"It's also capable of _destroying_ reality as we know it." Strange said, tilting his head slightly.

"You didn't worry about that when you played God with the Eye of Agamotto." She said bitterly, venom practically spitting from her mouth.

"The Eye of Agamotto had already been documented and there were set instructions. I didn't realize what I was messing with, which is why I'm warning you now; None of us know the full extent of the tablet's powers and we should therefore proceed with great caution. Taking it and instantly activating it could have shattered reality before you could blink." Strange said, his voice hard.

"You don't know that!"R etha said loudly, pressing her point like a blinded bull.

Sensing the conversation turning sour, Strange tried another tactic, "Look, Retha, your right; I don't. Why don't we both return to Kamatage and we can study it together, in a safer environment. You saw the wear the uses had on it, we don't know enough about it and it is in turn taking damage due to that. So let us work together here." He said eloquently.

Retha seemed to relax a bit, nodding slightly. Strange smiled.

With the olive branch successfully extended, the next step was going home, "Where's the tablet?" Strange asked.

A very faint, unsettling ringing filled the rooms, one similar to that made after hearing a loud noise. The light seemed to seep through the cracks of the floorboard, leaving the place notably dimmer than it was a moment before. The two looked towards the gaping hole in the wall which was their only source of light besides the slits coming through the drawn shades. The rain must be getting worse.

 _I'm_ _ **tired**_ _of giving_ _ **people**_ _a_ _ **choice**_ _._

Retha looked ashen, "Strange,I-I..." Her voice cracked and broke off. Her eyes were wide with fear. Strange's brows pressed together with concern, and he dared to take a step forward.

~o~

The first sign that notified Sherlock that something was wrong was the ringing. From his perch on the fire escape he could hear the conversation clearly, allowing him to filter in data while remaining unseen. Strange seemed to be sticking to his ramblings about a tablet and reality and- what was that? A very, very quiet _growl_ of, " _I'm tired of giving people a choice."_ So quiet that Sherlock calculated a 96% certainty that he was the only one besides Retha who heard it. The voice was not Retha's, nor was it Doctor Strange's; It was otherworldly and filled with barely contained rage.

Sherlock's brain fired off deductions on autopilot- _Pitch change in sentence suggest a not so trustworthy character, emphasis indicates real anger and bitterness, most likely due to past events. Betrayal. Possible voice distortion due to-_

Must gather more data.

"Strange, I-I..."

~o~

 _He's lying. He is just using you to get his toy back._

Strange watched the hope in her eyes die as the olive branch wilted and crumbled to ashes. Her stance turned guarded, mistrusting, "Why should I trust you, you wouldn't face the challenge of the Tablet of Order and Chaos when you _had_ it, now that you don't have all threats locked safely under lock and key you seem rather keen to study it." She mocked.

Strange faltered, "Tablet of Order and Chaos?"

" _It's name!_ Not that you would know that as you let it gather dust on a pedestal! Unlike you I've been researching it, for a while now, and this isn't the first time it's been used either, if you care to hear. Only a few years ago it was activated in New York by some spider themed vigilante, it was _documented_ in a rather obscure book in the very back of the library, in the archives on magical artifacts identified over the years. It got shattered but was repaired, then it was stolen from New York where it traded hands until it wound up with me." Strange noted how she said 'me', as opposed to 'us', and felt her trust slipping further from his grasp.

"We have only had The Tablet of Order and Chaos in our possession for a little under a year, we were still reinforcing The Sanctums defenses; There was much to do after the Ancient One passed and-" Strange's composer slipped a little as his mouth formed an aggravated line and his head tilted to the side quickly, "You put so much effort into your obsession with the Tablet you forgot to note that we _were_ studying it, you just got thrown off the project!"

Retha breathed heavily, a shred of regret eroding her self righteous composition.

"You didn't do enough. No one ever does enough!"

"Our duty is to protect Earth!" Strange's words whipped with their own force now, "What you fail to grasp is that you opened a door to dimensions that beforehand did not have the key to threaten the people who live there! You don't remember what happened last year when Dormammu came this close to tearing us apart because someone let him in? Yes, sometimes the rules _must_ be bent for the greater good, but you must also know that they can only be stretched so far before they break. There is a line where calculated risks are no longer plausible and become selfish, more about your own desire than anyone else, and you crossed it!" He finished viciously.

 _Isn't it funny how he calls you the selfish one? When he is the one manipulating you? Hiding from the prospect of a shield around the Earth because he is afraid it will shatter and send a few shards down with it?_

"Strange," Retha said, her eyes steely, "You give me your _word_ you will ensure that the Tablet is properly examined and then put to use in the proper way?"

"I give my word." Strange said, his expression serious.

Retha nodded purposefully, trust forming again between the two. The moment was quickly strangled by the ringing becoming more intense, it was intrusive and unsettling and much louder now. The room darkened to pitch black levels, and the ringing was now the only sound besides their startled breathing.

 _"You know I find it..._ funny _how you think you have a choice in this."_ The voice send shivers down their spines, it was gravely and deep and distorted, it echoed around the place, making them feel closed in and trapped. This time everyone heard it.

"Strange!" Retha gasped, her voice ridden with terror. She sounded like she was far away, underwater.

That's when Strange saw him. He wasn't sure how he got there, but there was no mistaking him. A man with ashen skin and dark hair that hung ominously over his black eyes had appeared between them. He wore a perfectly fitted grey suit and would have been considered handsome if not for the scarcely controlled danger that eminated off from him. His eyes were dark and calculating, filled with a burning rage despite the blackness that surrounded them like thick eyeliner and the calm facade he so powerfully projected. The edges of his frame were lined with double mirror images in blue and red, and he swayed in and out of focus as everyone's vision distorted.

"Shame you won't listen. Luckily I have your best _interest_ in mind." He grinned darkly at Retha before his whole image seemed to glitch and scatter, and he appeared this time much closer to Strange. He eyed him, a predatory smile clasping his features, "You seem to be under the impression that you know the safest route to," His mouth curved upwards on one side, " _Navigate,_ the situation. But I'm sorry to say your mistaken. I can help you, I have a way with these sort of things you see. I can show you how to help protect that planet, many others too."

Strange scowled, "Who are you?" He ignored how the ringing the man seemed to produce hurt his ears and made him fearful.

The man raised an eyebrow, his image glitching again like a crashing computer before saying, "I believe some of those who have encountered me have given me the name _Darkiplier._ They even write stories about it on the internet." He said calmly with a dry smile.

"What do you want?" Strange demanded, refraining from summoning his trusty Cloak and preparing for a fight.

"I have been ignored." He said nastily, "Cast aside and treated like a joke. I'm done letting people deny me." His whole image flickered and he suddenly screamed, his face filled with anger, "I can _help_ you!" before the calm exterior quickly came back with the flip of a switch, "You know how much good this tablet could do with the proper handling." He said slowly and delicately, each word spoken with calm that seemed to be laced with demand, "You want to help your precious world so bad, and I can provide, you just have to let me in."

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out your not trustworthy, sorry." Strange smiled without humor, "Now I have a request of my own. Leave this planet- this _dimension_ if your feeling ambitious- but do not return." Strange said with authority, his clothes finally rippling into his worn robes and slightly ripped Cloak of Levitation, still battered from the past days use.

Darkiplier's calm exterior did not change besides another frightening flicker of a distorted, rage filled image of himself, before returning to normal and saying darkly, "Your as annoyingly stubborn as another being I met. He was unflattering sure with the green hair and slit throat but he quickly learned discipline. And just like him your mistaken in thinking you have control over me." Screaming images overlay his current one, colors distorting and saturating,  
"No one does. No more!" He said gutterally.

He gave the slightest move that he became aware of another presence in the room, and after a slight dangerous smirk Strange's vision crackled and became a blizzard of feed not unlike that of a computer experiencing a fatal virus as the sound of a gunshot rang out.

~o~


End file.
